A chorus line of fluffers and panderers will gather this August, as they always do, at the Edinburgh International Film Festival to celebrate Kazimierz Lubanski's lost Warsaw arthouse études. Or perhaps it may be Igor Masopust's seminal, and rarely seen, Carpathian trilogie. But whichever it is, I will wonder, and not for the first time, when they will get round to assembling a retrospective on the emerging west of Scotland cinematic oeuvre which has been loosely christened Glasgow Noir by some and Clyde Mort by others.

Next week, I hope to view the latest work in this canon, Neds, by the gifted actor and director Peter Mullan. I'm told it is a gritty and visceral study on how ancient and tribal gang loyalties destroy the academic dream of a young man from the schemes. I'm sure it will be brilliant, and pure dead at that.

Indeed it seems that in the last 30 years or so almost the entire output of films based in and around the west of Scotland have as their themes gangland violence, murder, suicide and belligerent sex… with the odd bit of voyeurism and rat infestation thrown in. And so not for nothing is the sobriquet Glasgow Noir applied. Any romance is usually of the boy-meets girl, boy-loves-girl, boy-chucks-girl, girl headbutts-boy variety. Gay characters are absolutely verboten.

Now I'm not suggesting for a minute here that just because lots of people are getting stookied, banjoed and chibbed in these productions that they do not deserve to be regarded as jewels of the filmic art. One of the finest, for example, is a little unsung number called Man Dancin'. This is about a Glasgow criminal, recently released from a lengthy prison stretch and striving against the odds to avoid returning to his old ways.

Then there's Small Faces (gang warfare among Glasgow gangs); Young Adam (sad drifter drowns his pregnant girlfriend before having frantic coitus with his pal's wife on a canal dredger) and A Sense of Freedom (notorious hard-man becomes pacified in Barlinnie after a lifetime of crucifying and eviscerating people). But my all-time favourite is Just A Boy's Game, although, strictly speaking, it was a 1979 BBC Play for Today. This was written by the great playwright Peter McDougall.

It stars the incomparable blues singer Frankie Miller who turns in a bravura performance as Jake McQuillan. Jake possesses a face that looks like it has been dooking for chips in a deep-fat frier and he wants to emulate his dying grandfather who was once the Hardest Man in Greenock. It features characters such as Dancer Dunnichy, Tanza, Dunky McAfferty and Clatty Bella and has a spectacular but bleak night-time denouement among the local shipyards.

There are several more films exploring such themes. Indeed, with the addition of Neds there are now more than enough to warrant a week-long Glasgow Noir film festival. It would be the absolute antithesis of Edinburgh's gilded event where it's all weary velvet jackets and brown moccasins. At the Glasgow festival the only velvet to be seen would be the collars on those short, brown coats favoured by the actor Ray Winstone.

Yet while I am proud of these films which are unsparing in their powerful portrayal of my city's recurring themes of poverty, violence and deprivation, I occasionally yearn for something more uplifting and sensitive such as Gregory's Girl or Carla's Song. After all, last week it was revealed that, outside of London, Glasgow is the most cultured city in the UK. So could we not explore the nature of relationships or have people cycling dreamily around Loch Lomond to a jingly-jangly soundtrack of Hipsway or Love and Money? Or the odd political thriller where the individual battles against the state in a hi-tech game of cat and mouse? So here's a couple of ideas to get Scottish Screen in the mood.

Bareback Mountain This is set among Glasgow's gentle but evanescent cowboy re-enactment community. Alistair and Neil are middle-aged professionals stuck in marriages of convenience. They meet while auditioning for roles in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers at the Govan Grand Ole Opry.

Romance blossoms and initial hostility from their partners gives way to compassionate understanding. A civil partnership takes place and Sean Connery makes a scene-stealing cameo appearance as Alex Salmond turning up at the end to do the honours.

The Dan and Vinny Code Set against the backdrop of Glasgow's changing newspaper scene, Dan and Vinny are two Bacardi-soaked investigative journalists who stumble upon a plot to destroy the very fabric of unionism in Scotland.

Five top Labour MSPs are found tortured and murdered at the five wonders of Scotland: the Wallace Monument, Edinburgh Castle, the Paps of Jura, St Magnus Cathedral and Glasgow's "Squinty" bridge. Bizarre clues are found beside each body. The delinquent duo find themselves in a gripping race against time to unravel the code. But who are the hooded and fanatical cybernaut blogging sect who stalk their every move?

And what is the shocking secret of Culloden that the government wants to suppress? The mystery takes them to the edge of a sacred moor; the Bacardi takes them to the edge of reason.

Raymy and Jeanette This is loosely based on Shakespeare's tragic tale of star-cross'd lovers. Raymy is a Roman Catholic and Jeanette is of the Presbyterian tradition.

They meet in a dodgy late-night piano bar and embark on a torrid love affair that the disapprobation of their respective families cannot quell. Barred from seeing each other ever again, they kill themselves with poison.

Their grief-stricken kin are forced to throw off their sectarian ways and spend the rest of their lives visiting schools to teach children about love and reconciliation across the religious divide. Billy Connolly makes a cameo appearance as a Roystonhill whisky priest.

If Iain Gray becomes Scotland's next first minister he could stage a special screening of the film when it's his turn to host the Old Firm "Shame Game" summit in a few years' time.